Edna in the Desert (17 page)

“I have to wait a couple minutes before I check the oil.”

He was supposed to do that before he took the car out. He was always doing things wrong around this girl. She liked going out, and he’d forgotten about anything else. He put up the hood and realized he didn’t need to check the oil, really; he’d just checked it last week. Edna perched on a stool next to him, her foot rocking back and forth like a softly wagging tail.

“What do you do with your friends around here? Do you ride dirt bikes a lot?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you go to movies?”

“Well, there’s a multiplex, but it’s far. I haven’t been there in, like, forever, and there’s an old drive-in in town, but—”

“There’s a drive-in? Can we go to it? I’ve never been to a drive-in!”

“I’m not taking you to a drive-in, Edna.”

“Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Sure.”

“So we can go to a movie. I always go to the movies with my friends.”

“Maybe we should just be…acquaintances.”

“No, I have an idea.”

“What?”

“How we can be friends. Really. If I kiss you and you don’t kiss me back, it proves that we can be. That you’re serious. I’m not sure you are, but then I get to go to a drive-in movie.”

“And what if I do kiss you back? What would happen to our friendship?”

Edna had no clue where she’d gotten this idea or how she’d had the guts to suggest it, but he’d considered it enough for her to pursue it.

“Well, then we get to kiss again, but only once more and in the name of research. I don’t think that’s going to happen, though. We just have to prove it, and then we’re going to the movie.”

Edna hated kissing games, but she’d just invented one that worked for her, one she couldn’t lose. Whether he kissed her back or he didn’t, she was going to be happy with the outcome. She jumped down and steered him onto the stool. Johnny was beyond kissing games, but he was powerless against Edna’s logic. Or he let himself be. He might love her a little. This was a stupid idea.

She rested her hands on his shoulders. Edna finally had him again. This time she was the predator and he was the one who didn’t know what was going on. She could see this when she looked in his eyes; she had power over him. She liked this, and she liked her own desire. She touched her lips to his. It felt beautiful, like something she should do all the time. He stayed still but breathed deeply, as if inhaling was a way of touching her. She pressed against him with the insides of her lips, tasting his skin. She put her arms around his neck and caressed the back of his head. She pressed her body against his. She felt sexy; this was new. He put his hand on her hip at one point and then took it away. The only thing that could explain his ability to keep from devouring her was a deeper desire to show Edna that he was strong and in control enough to take her someplace she wanted to go.

“That’s pretty good,” she teased, and she kissed him again.

“That’s enough.”

“OK, but you didn’t kiss me back, so we’re going to the drive-in movie, right?”

She fell into his arms and insisted, “Right?”

Defeated, he was still thinking about it.

“Right.”

“When?”

“Let’s ask Mary if it’s OK, and if she says yes, we’ll go.”

Mary noticed that Edna put on pink lipstick every time Johnny came over, and she thought that was fine, but she didn’t think it was fine that Johnny had pink lipstick faintly streaked across his face and on the forearm he’d wiped it off with.

“Grandma, Johnny wants to ask you a question.”

Edna was loopy. Johnny could ask a question without the help of an announcement. Not that Mary needed it, but it was more evidence that these two had been kissing. Mary was impressed with Edna; Johnny was as good as any boy she could think of. She put down the button she was sewing onto Zeke’s shirt and set her elbows on the picnic table.

“All right.”

“Mary, would it be all right if I took Edna to a movie? In Desert Palms? It’s the drive-in.”

“I’ve never been to a drive-in before,” Edna added, too enthusiastically.

Mary studied Edna, then Johnny, then she looked away, leaving them in the awkward silence that Edna was used to but Johnny had probably not experienced. He’d probably never asked Mary any kind of personal question. Edna was amazed at how much power Grandma held in her pauses, and it occurred to her that Grandma might know that. Edna wasn’t as embarrassed by the delay as she might have been; Johnny already knew her grandparents, and, unbelievably, he liked her anyway. She found it hard to stand being so in love with him. He looked back at her as if to ask if Grandma was ever going to answer.

“Let me think about it,” Grandma said, and she went back to the button. Mary wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but the smartest thing at the moment was to do nothing. Even if she was going to let them go, it was up to her, as Edna’s grandmother, to make him wait. She wouldn’t answer today. It was no good if it was too easy for anyone to see her granddaughter.

The drive-in was built a long time ago. Tall, fluffy trees called tamarisks must have been as old as Grandma’s eucalyptus trees and encircled the property. People camped out with blankets and pillows in the beds of their pick-up trucks. There were only ten cars. Edna thought the place couldn’t possibly be making any money. Johnny bought them popcorn at the concession stand, a bare-bones structure that was like the poorer buildings Edna had seen in Mexico. Chubby girls were dressed in pajamas and fuzzy slippers. They talked about the last movie they saw there, and neither of them could remember the name of it. Edna noticed their sparkling, long fingernails as they dipped each already buttered popcorn kernel into a cheese sauce before putting it in their mouths. This would be such a nutritional offense in Edna’s world; some parent might be outraged enough to call the police.

In front of the large screen, poles sticking out of the dirt divided the parking spaces. Johnny explained that they used to have speakers that hung inside the car windows before they had the sound on the radio. Edna’s stay in the desert had established the longest time she’d gone in her life without looking at a screen. This one was framed by the windshield from inside the Jeep and suspended in front of the stars. Bloodied zombies attacked the terrified inhabitants of a small town. Johnny and Edna cringed as a zombie ate someone’s brain. People in a nearby truck moaned, and some girls in the next car screamed. The lucky, young survivors with their brains intact ran away. There was a cough from the backseat.

“Are they gone?”

Mary hated horror films. On the way to the drive-in that evening, she’d told Edna and Johnny that her favorite film was
From Here to Eternity
, and while she knew it was a cliché, she was certain they didn’t make them like that anymore.

Edna was infuriated with Grandma’s condition that they could only go to the drive-in if she went along with them, but Grandma firmly established that it was with her or nothing. Grandma made decisions, and then she didn’t participate in discussions about them, which was totally unfair. Meanwhile, Johnny acted as if it was going to be fun to have Grandma come along with them, and that she was naturally invited. He was either impossibly nice or a little relieved, but Edna would have preferred if he sounded disappointed.

The Jeep had bucket seats in the front, and Edna felt too much distance between them. With a more discreet seat, she could have hoped they’d hold hands without Grandma noticing, but she had to settle for being near Johnny for the entire movie without touching him. She could see why he had reservations about taking her here alone. It was cozy. Soon their seats were tilted back; it was a more comfortable way to watch the screen. Edna wasn’t getting exactly what she wanted, but she knew there was a good chance Johnny would be kissing her if Grandma wasn’t behind them.

The silliest zombie movie was fun to watch with him because he seemed to think so too. Johnny liked Edna’s giggling better than the movie, and when she sensed this, she let her eyes meet his. She would not be exaggerating if she claimed to have seen the depths of the universe and the passage of all time in their watery beauty. It was a luxury for them to look at each other for as long as they wanted to. It was as if they were finally where they were supposed to be, until Grandma tilted Edna’s seat back up.

These two were not watching any movie; they were pickling in their hormones. Edna was annoyed, but Mary didn’t care. The young man took the hint, and he put up his own seat immediately. Shortly after, the zombies were blown up, the town was saved, and it was time to go home.

A canopy of stars moved with them down the highway, and Edna loved driving at night with a boy who had his license and a Jeep, even though Grandma was there. She’d been easy enough for Edna to ignore most of the time, except for the seat-tilting part and the no-touching part. Johnny opened the door for Edna to step out of the passenger side and folded down the seat to help Grandma out.

“Thanks for the movie, Johnny.”

“Thanks for coming, Mary.”

“Can I come inside in a minute, Grandma?” Edna asked.

“OK, Edna, one minute.”

Grandma went in without looking back. Edna turned to Johnny. The pull toward each other was natural, like gravity, and neither of them noticed it. The porch light went on, but it was too dim to matter.

“Thanks for taking us to the movie.”

“Sure. Did you like it?”

“I liked seeing it with you,” she said.

A little smile came to his face.

“But I thought the zombies could have been more convincing,” she added.

“Really?”

“I don’t think a zombie can jump-start a car. I mean, they’re undead. They have minimal faculties and no coordination.”

“I think you might be right about that.”

“Did you like it?”

“I liked seeing it with you.”

“And my grandmother?”

“And your grandmother.”

He had more confidence than the last time he kissed her. They knew each other, and they knew they liked each other. It was real and mutual and deep. This time Edna didn’t think she had to passively let him stop just because certain things that kept going foggy became clear to him. Namely that Edna was still thirteen and that Mary was waiting inside for her. He stepped back from their embrace, but she stayed close, holding the edge of his jacket. She ached to make him stay, to make him kiss her again, but she knew she couldn’t force him to do anything.

“Johnny—”

“Edna, I don’t think I can see you anymore.”

Watching from the bedroom, Mary was surprised at how advanced their affection was, and she would have ended the good-bye if Johnny hadn’t.

He drove away as fast as he could without screeching off and adding to the drama. As he looked at the dirt road in the headlights, he understood that even if he had no intention of pursuing anything, there was nothing innocent about being with Edna anymore. It kept ending up like this.

The glow coming from the bedroom disappeared when Grandma let go of the curtain. Edna didn’t care what Grandma saw. She didn’t care what anyone saw. She watched until the Jeep’s taillights disappeared and there was nothing left but the stars in the big sky. Her heart felt so full, it touched every one of them.

Sitting in the morning sun was luxurious. Edna drank her coffee on the porch, leaving a pink lipstick stain on her mug. She was used to coffee, almost liking it. She was a different young woman in many ways than she had been at the beginning of the summer. She had a tan, something she’d never had before—not even a fake one, because Jill was convinced that was just as bad for your skin. Johnny was a little tan, especially on his cheekbones, and Edna decided that real sun was natural and looked good. Little did Jill know that by leaving her daughter in Dream Valley, she’d turned her into a tanned coffee drinker who’d been properly kissed more than once.

Edna would have gloated that she got better revenge against her parents than she could’ve imagined by enjoying herself so much this summer, but being in love with Johnny made her feel above all that. Being in love with Johnny made her want to be a better person. She was still daydreaming about their last kiss, though it had been several days since the drive-in. She was grateful that she had so much time to think about it. Thinking about anything to do with Johnny’s mouth, his breath, even his teeth, made Edna feel like she was on the verge of passing out, and she thought about it constantly. If someone had told her two months ago that she’d be doing this, she would have laughed; the inside of another person’s mouth was a disgusting place to be avoided. Edna no longer knew herself. She had no idea how people in love functioned or went to work or school or were allowed to drive, for that matter.

This morning Johnny would deliver the groceries. There were only a few weeks left of summer, and she hoped she’d get to see him more than just those few times, and then forever somehow, although her vision of this future was murky. He’d said something about not seeing her anymore, but that was small in her memory next to their explosive second kiss. If he had said that, Edna was certain she’d be able to talk him out of it.

She felt a serene sense of fate, destiny and what’s meant to be when the red truck popped over the horizon at the usual time and kicked up its line of dirt across the basin. She would say it was a nice day and ask him if he had a good drive out. It was pretty much always a nice day in the desert, but with her evolved personality, expressing happiness about a typical day was starting to feel natural. While reflecting on this, Edna noticed that something about the truck was different. It was moving more slowly than it normally did. Just like that, her peaceful glow slipped away. The truck had a different driver. It was Ken Bishop, Edna guessed, Johnny’s great-uncle. Her soul sank as he approached.

Ken stopped at the cabin and waved to Edna before he got the groceries. Edna couldn’t process what was happening. She expected Johnny to emerge from the back of the truck, like a magic trick or some kind of practical joke. Maybe he and Ken had to go somewhere afterward.